A Tale of Johnlock
by CommanderJoachim
Summary: Just a bit of love for the pair that I love so much.


Prediction

He was Sherlock Holmes, the most brilliant and ridiculous man in all of London, probably the world… The least he could do is leave a note.

_ "There's another bedroom upstairs, if you'll be needing two bedrooms."_

_ "I'll get a candle for the table. Small, romantic."_

_ "Might we expect a happy announcement by the end of the week?"_

People kept insinuating that he and Sherlock Holmes were some sort of an item. John wasn't sure what it was about the two of them, but apparently they came off as lovers or something.

It was rather infuriating. John Watson was not in a romantic relationship with Sherlock Holmes…

Though that's not something he admitted so firmly anymore. The first time it happened it came as a shock and the doctor didn't know whether to be offended or pleased. The times after that became a bit annoying, as he _wasn't _the taller man's significant other.

_Of course, it had to be something I protest so loudly about that is something I want so desperately._ John thought to himself.

There was no point in saying he wasn't gay, because he honestly wasn't sure anymore. No other man had ever been attractive to him in such a way and no woman had been to such a degree. So maybe it was just Sherlock…

John sighed tiredly and entwined his fingers tightly, tossing his head back to stare at the darkening sky. The air was moist and thick with the threat of oncoming rain. There was a strong breeze that partially drowned out the noise of London and shooed away the thoughts of his… friend…

His friend that was gone.

The doctor sucked in a deep breath through his nose and bit the inside of his cheek harshly. He was thinking of it again. The fall that still haunted him in his sleep.

_John's phone dropped from his hand as Sherlock dropped from the room. His hair and clothes moving with the wind the fall caused. Time slowed as the doctor watched in horror, frozen in that awful moment. And suddenly Watson noticed that his lungs burned terribly. He took a breath…_

_And Sherlock hit the ground. _

John's eyes stung and yet again, he had to clench his eyes shut and breathe deeply. Loudly.

The air was getting thicker, the noise becoming overbearing. His breath was too fast and his pulse beat like drums in his ears. A sudden pain stabbed at his leg, the limp was acting up again. His hands were shaking. He needed to go home. Now.

John stood, walking back to the flat he couldn't bear to leave. Mrs. Hudson was patient with him and his rather low income. He helped around the apartment whenever she needed it and paid what he could. For now that was good enough.

But she often complained that he wasn't as healthy as he used to be. Watson had lost weight and there were dark circles under his eyes, they became more prominent when his skin began to pale. The man shivered a bit when he felt a drop of cold rain hitting the back of his neck.

He was about three block away from home now.

John felt his phone buzz in his pocket, but he was in no hurry to answer it. No one really texted him anymore. No one worth the effort, anyway. It buzzed twice more and then again. A call.

Somehow these two sounded more insistent. Only a few people called him. Lestrade, Mrs. Hudson and Mycroft. Absently, John fished his cell out of his pocket. The number was Mycroft's and he only called when there was something important to say.

_Fine then._ He stopped walking and leaned against a building.

"Yes?" The doctor's voice was a bit croaky, he noticed.

"I've a happy announcement for you." The elder of the Holmes brothers stated. "As you no doubt already know, I have taken the liberty of watching over your phone records. Whenever you get a call, I know who it's from and I now the moment after it occurs." John couldn't find it in himself to be surprised or bothered by that fact.

"And?"

There was a long pause and when the man spoke again, John would practically hear the smile on his face.

"Check your messages." Then the phone clicked as Mycroft hung up.

_Why that—._ Regardless, John did as he was told…

And nearly had a heart attack. His fingers clutched at the beat up mobile and suddenly he was running. Sprinting back to 221 B Baker Street as fast as his legs could carry him. When he came to the door it was partially open already and Watson burst in without a care.

There was only one thing on his mind.

But what if he was wrong? He stopped. Panting, the military man began to remember some of the things he had picked up from Sherlock. The door was open, why was it open? No scratches or any sign of forced entry. Mrs. Hudson wouldn't have left the place unlocked, she was smarter than that.

Was someone toying with him? No. No, if that were it, then Mycroft wouldn't have called.

There was a gunshot. John's heart leapt into his throat… His breathing quickened and with a muttered curse, he darted up the stairs. The door was wide open.

Another shot. He could feel his pulse hammering in his head. Hearing ceased and sensation dulled. John didn't even bother to slow down when he entered the house.

"John!" That bloody voice called out. So deep and masculine. So _familiar._

Worried, guilty, blue eyes. Wavy black hair that had grown a bit since last. Black dress shoes and pants. A purple shirt with the first two buttons left undone. A hand gun lazily dangling from slender fingers. John's eyes stung fiercely.

"Welcome back."

It was him.

"Did you miss me while I was gone?"

He was here.

"You're not as healthy as I'd hoped, but I'll soon see to that."

The bloody git. John had waited for him… Desperately clinging to that thin line of hope that told him Sherlock Holmes was still breathing somewhere in the world. Waiting, watching, destroying things because he was bored and he needed to stay hidden. He'd sat within the apartment when he had to, working to keep himself occupied so that he didn't have to think. Didn't have to cope.

"John?" That deep baritone inquired.

In the first week they had known each other—the first _three days_—he worried about the man. He'd _killed _for the man and hadn't felt badly about it, but glad that he'd managed to protect someone who had become important. He had _shot and killed _another human being for him! And he couldn't be bothered to leave a blasted note?

**The bloody prat! **

Before Sherlock could blink, John had moved across the floor and punched him hard in the face. The raven haired man let his head move with the blow and it most definitely hurt, yet he didn't move to relieve it by rubbing his cheek… He'd noticed that his blogger had refrained from hitting his eyes, nose, and lips.

So he still cared… Good. Very good. And he still found him too attractive to harm him too badly. That and John Watson was not one to harm another human being without just cause which means he _really _messed up.

He supposed he could have been a bit more forthcoming.

"… Well… Clearly I deserved that."

"There aren't even words to describe how much you've put me through!" John cried out, tears falling from his eyes like rain from clouds. His chest heaved as fury coursed through his veins.

"Oh, there are, you just can't think of them right now." Sherlock stood slowly. Walking toward his shorter, angry friend with carefully considered steps. "I know that I should have contacted you, but I couldn't risk it."

"Risk i—" He was interrupted when those slender hands took hold of his. Thumbs moving up and down the back of his hand.

"And anyway it wasn't as if I was unaffected by the distance." Sherlock began to tug John to the table. It was only then that he noticed the delicious aroma of freshly cooked Italian food. Those ocean eyes of his crinkled and the corners of his mouth pulled up in a soft smile. "You're worse than nicotine, love."

**We're out of milk. SH **

* * *

I realize this is quite awful, but I was determined to get this up before 24:00. Just a little Johnlock tale that refused to leave me be. Not that I minded of course. And its difficult to convey the fast pace that Sherlock talks in, let alone the intelligence he reeks of and I'm not satisfied with John's kicked puppy attitude. I might have to re-do this at a later date, or add to it. You can thank ClarencetheSpyCat for it being up on time. Awsome writer, check out her work (in my favorites). Have a Lovely Valentines Day.


End file.
